


τίποτα | nothing

by goodnightfern



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x19 Not Hopeful, Not A Fix-It, Other, i have a responsibility and a duty to see this thing through., i was there when the very first deancas fic, look in my eyes and listen to me, proper and better than canon usage of reaper lore, was posted on livejournal, whatever. whatever. stop looking at me.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: Castiel dies, and Death becomes him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	τίποτα | nothing

**Author's Note:**

> WE ARE FREE. THE EVIL HAS BEEN DEFEATED. SUPERNATURAL IS ENDING. DESTIEL CANON. SHUT THE DOOR. WALK AWAY. WE WILL NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN.

Castiel is dead, and death becomes him. He opens his eyes in the pitch-black space and Death is in and all around him. The Empty does not bother taking form for him. Its curling void seeps away, the life bound in death utterly rejecting him.

The library is a cavern of no tangible constructs. Books reduced to pure language, the walls filaments of energy. An unknowable sound, a deafening cosmic static hum thrums his being, vibrates in his soul, and then the part of him that has learned how to drive and how to sit down in chairs and when to put a hand on Jack’s shoulder forces the chaos into something it can understand.

Castiel is slumped on the floor of something that looks like the bunker’s library. A bit different. There’s a reception desk that resembles the reception desk of the public library in County Falls, Iowa where Dean once pulled out a chair for him, hovered over his shoulder at the microfilm reader, and he’d been so horribly aware of Dean’s burger-grease breath in his ear he’d longed to shove him off. In life there’d been a patient and arthritic woman behind the desk. Here in Death there is no one.

Only the scythe laid flat on top the desk.

Death picks it up, feels the blade sing in reply to his touch, and Castiel knows: of course, he has one more job to do.

Hasn’t he always longed for this? Time and time again there’s only been one person capable of pulling him from the brink of suicide. The man he’d so thoroughly given up on he’d made his reckless deal. A challenge, almost. If Dean could ever love him like he needed to be loved, prove Castiel so thoroughly wrong about him, he’d gladly throw in the towel.

If he can never have Dean, then let him have this.

He will reap Sam. He will reap God and undo the very fabric of the universe. And then, when it is only the two of them, just him and the man who took and used and ruined his life, he will cup Dean’s face in his hands and end them both.

Sleep forever in the void beyond existence.

The library shakes. Books tumble off the shelves, spilling pages, wither to dust by the time they touch the ground. Death lifts his scythe and drags it down a shelf, sending them to the floor. Death cocks his head at the screams of anguish, at the moans of despair, but Castiel hears.

Something.

In life he’d become so attuned to Dean’s soul he could pick his words out of every voice on Earth and all the Celestial Host. There is no prayer of Dean he’s never heard. No thought. Not even that time in the library, County Falls, Iowa. Dean’s breath, Dean’s thoughts, _fuck, Winchester, keep it together, quit eyeing him like that, you’re acting like a fucking freak._

Now Dean is sending up one last bitter prayer. Cas should’ve told him sooner. Cas shouldn't have made that deal. Cas shouldn't have given up. As if it wasn't _obvious,_ as if he hadn't torn his own stolen heart out of his borrowed body and left it to him and now Death’s scythe drags sparks on the floor.

Death is not angry. Not happy either. Through the Empty and back again; there is only Death's task before him.

 _Never even gave us a goddamn chance,_ Dean says, still shuddering and sobbing where Cas left him.

Never? No, he only came back every time after Dean pushed him away. Only gave up eternity to put himself in between Dean’s hands. Four and a half billion years of knowledge and power turned to clay beneath human hands. Death mourns the Castiel that was, mourns the awkward Cas he became, mourns the heart that never knew and then Death no longer mourns because Death only accepts.

Castiel wonders if Dean will accept this: one taste before the end. One word. One kiss.

_You could've had it, Cas. If you'd just - how the hell was I supposed to know -_

I loved you. Of course I did. What were you thinking, Dean?

The lights in the not-bunker are only the lamps he remembers. The bulbs fade red like the sunset before they go out.

**Author's Note:**

> i never in my life thought that any of the Current Events would be happening. i haven't even seen the last.... four seasons? but mainlined s15 in a coma. 
> 
> destiel canon /and/ their theme song is now NiN: Something I Can Never Have? 2020, what the fuck.


End file.
